Fei Ni hadn’t expected to become Wang Xiaoman’s neighbor. After failing to move into new housing, Wang Xiaoman could only stay in her originally assigned old apartment, though her place was more spacious than Fei Ni’s, with two rooms, inner and outer.
When Fei Ni went to check her apartment after work, she encountered Wang Xiaoman making braised pork ribs. Wang’s family used a gas cylinder—gas wasn’t yet widespread at the time, with many families still cooking with coal. Fei Ni quickly scanned the stoves along the corridor and abandoned the idea of cooking at home.
The Wang family’s door was open, with “The Flower Girl” playing on their television. TV programs were scarce these days—besides news, there were only old movies and theater shows. That television had been purchased with the TV voucher Fei Ni had provided. In return, Fei Ni’s brother had gotten a position in the propaganda department of the hat factory.
Wang Xiaoman was equally surprised to have Fei Ni as a neighbor. She had thought Fei Ni’s husband was influential, at least enough to have independent housing. Now it seemed she had overestimated Fei Ni’s husband, though Fei Ni’s rank and years of service wouldn’t have qualified her for housing either.
With this question in mind, she scrutinized Fei Ni, her attention drawn to the wristwatch. She was familiar with all watch styles on the market, but Fei Ni’s was different.
“Fei Ni, which factory made your watch?”
“I don’t know, my husband gave it to me.”
“Is it foreign-made too?”
“I’m not sure.”
As Fei Ni unlocked her door to inspect her apartment, noting the walls yellowed by time and the severely peeling paint on the window glass, Wang Xiaoman stood outside, asking probingly, “So you’ll be living here from now on?”
Fei Ni answered yes while mentally planning the room’s layout. The room was too small for actual walls—even dividing it into two sections would require curtains and could only accommodate two single beds. While she might keep neighbors like Wang Xiaoman from inspecting her home, she couldn’t prevent her own family from visiting. A married couple sleeping in separate beds would raise suspicions.
They would need a double bed.
Because Fang Muyang hadn’t returned, Fei Ni had to tell the truth about his trip to Tangshan. Her parents, worried about both Fang Muyang and her, suggested she stay at home until his return before moving.
Fei Ni couldn’t think of a reason not to move into the new house. The new home needed early preparation, and besides, the home was too crowded—with her there, her brother could only sleep on a folding bed in the outer room, inconvenient for everyone.
Fei Ni had planned to paint the walls herself, but before she could start, Fei Ting bought putty powder and painted her walls after work. He also painted the window frames white. Her place was small, so it was quickly finished.
Fei Ting gave her a red envelope as a belated wedding gift. Feeling its length and thickness, Fei Ni guessed it was his entire month’s salary, still warm from his pocket. Having worked for just a month, this was probably all his savings.
Fei Ni returned the envelope, saying, “Don’t be lazy—I don’t want money, you need to buy me things.” She immediately requested white linen fabric for curtains and bed hangings.
Their parents, pitying their youngest daughter, planned to use their savings to buy her some furniture for temporary use. They also made a list of kitchen necessities: gas cylinder, steel pot, wok, kettle, various plates, bowls, knives, vegetable knife, fruit knife… These items seemed insignificant individually but added up to quite a sum.
Fei Ni had no plans to cook—the cooking environment was too cramped, troublesome, and expensive, far less convenient than the cafeteria. If she occasionally wanted better food, a small electric stove would suffice.
But she knew she couldn’t convince her parents, who stubbornly believed that a household without a cooking fire couldn’t be called a home.
She told her mother, who managed the family finances, “Give me the money, I’ll buy things myself. What you buy might not suit me.”
Her mother thought this reasonable and gave Fei Ni all the money set aside for her dowry.
“Take this radio too,” her mother said.
“You and Dad should keep it. I can’t empty the house every time I come home.”
“This radio was bought by Little Fang, he asked your father to give it to you. Your father…”
Before her mother could finish, Fei Ni understood—at the time, she had been dating Ye Feng, and to avoid spoiling her good match, her parents had lied.
But even if she had known then that the radio was from Fang Muyang, it wouldn’t have changed anything. At most, she would have returned it, and then Fang Muyang wouldn’t have had to sell his wool coat.
She had put all of Fang Muyang’s things in a metal box, respecting his privacy by not looking inside, but just by the weight, she knew the wool coat was gone.
Fei Ni counted out money for a sewing machine and returned it to her mother. “I’ll take my original sewing machine, you can buy a new one.”
“No need, I still have money.”
“My brother is getting married this year too, you’ll have plenty of expenses.”
On Sunday, Fei Ni went to the bank early, kept thirty yuan from her mother’s money, and deposited the rest in a current account. This money was for emergencies, not immediate use. After leaving the bank, she went to the second-hand market, chose two single bunk beds, and spent one yuan on a paint-peeled long table. She had them delivered to her new house, with the two beds pushed together, the longer side against the wall.
Fei Ni’s new home was quickly furnished. When her parents came to visit, they couldn’t hide their disappointment, especially her mother, who regretted giving Fei Ni the money—if she had helped with the purchases, it wouldn’t have been so sparse.
Everything in Fei Ni’s home was white—in such a small room, any heavy colors would feel oppressive.
White linen curtains, white linen bed hangings—Fei Ni made hangings for both beds. The lower bunk had blue and white checkered sheets and pillowcases. Because her parents were visiting, Fei Ni removed the blue and white dust cover to reveal the ginger-yellow gardenia-patterned quilt cover. The upper bunk held her bedding from home and the pillowcases Sister Mei had given her.
“Why did you get bunk beds?”
Fei Ni explained, “Our place is small—the upper bunk is for storage.” In reality, the upper bunk was hers.
Her mother continued sighing: “Even if you don’t want wardrobes and cabinets, you should at least have a table and chairs.”
“Fang Muyang will make those when he returns. This is fine for now. See this camphor wood chest I brought from home? Open it to store clothes, and close it to use as a seat. The sewing machine can serve as a table when not in use—for writing or eating.”
Her mother couldn’t manage a smile. Fei Ni pointed out the room’s advantages, “Mom, don’t you think this place is bright and spacious?”
Her mother thought silently, ‘Of course it’s spacious—there’s nothing in it!’
Besides the bed, there was only the camphor wood chest and sewing machine, with a paint-peeled long table against the wall covered by a white tablecloth. On it sat a tray with a glass pitcher and four thick-bottomed glasses. Next to the tray was a large glass vase with some flowers—one of the room’s few bright spots.
There were also flowers on the windowsill in white pots, transplanted from her family home. Looking up, the ceiling was also white, with a glass bulb in the center—Fei Ni had installed a high-wattage bulb.
Her mother couldn’t find anything good to say about the place. “When your neighbors come to see your new home, who knows how they’ll mock you behind your back.”
Fei Ni replied, “What’s wrong with being frugal and simple? Even if they gossip, they wouldn’t dare say it to my face. If I don’t know about it, they can think what they want.”
While Fei Ni could ignore others’ opinions, she couldn’t ignore her mother’s. She had to comfort her, saying that when Fang Muyang returned and made new furniture, the home would look completely different.
Though Fei Ni didn’t think it was so bad now.
“When will Little Fang return? Has he written to you?”
“Soon.” Fang Muyang had been gone for over a month, and Fei Ni hadn’t received a single telegram. Telegrams were scarce resources in this situation—she knew that no news was good news.
Her mother worried for her daughter—married just days before separating, it was understandable if she lacked the heart to furnish properly.
The only real mistake was making everything white. Though her mother was an atheist, she still felt a new home should be more festive.
Her parents also inspected Fei Ni’s stove, discovering it held no significance for her.
They interpreted this as Fei Ni having no interest in cooking while Fang Muyang was away.
As Fei Ni saw her parents out, her mother said, “Come back with us, I’ll cook you something good.”
“I have some things to take care of, I’ll come home tonight.”
After seeing her parents onto the trolley, Fei Ni cycled to the pastry shop. Though the Mid-Autumn Festival was still days away, people were already queuing for mooncakes, many buying paste-filled ones. Her parents loved the “self-red” and “self-white” varieties, while she preferred the “reversed fur” style. No one in the family liked paste-filled ones. But not knowing Fang Muyang’s preference, she bought half a jin each of the old reversed fur and paste-filled mooncakes. She was limited to one jin—couldn’t buy more even if she wanted to.
The shop assistant wrapped the mooncakes in oil paper, then brown paper, topped with a red sticker, tied with hemp rope in a well pattern, and handed them to Fei Ni with a loop. Finding the mooncakes insufficient, she bought two large pomegranates as well.
She headed straight to Editor-in-Chief Fu’s home—she had memorized the address Fang Muyang gave her and didn’t need to check it.
She knew Fang Muyang certainly couldn’t eat mooncakes now, but if any of his colleagues were going to the disaster area soon, she could ask them to bring some to him. If not, she could give them to Editor Fu as a gift. She thought, that since Fang Muyang went to the disaster area for work, the unit must be receiving telegrams during this time. Editor Fu would know more about Fang Muyang than she did.
The Fu family lived on the third floor. After confirming the door number was correct, Fei Ni knocked.
Before the door opened, she had prepared a smile—one that didn’t fade even when she saw it was Ling Yi who answered.